Fancy Forgetting
by Hollow Wolfe
Summary: Hans is moved to Arendelle in order to recover from injuries and amnesia he sustained in a freak accident. With his personality now reduced to nearly a blank slate, Anna finds the opportunity to reshape him however she sees fit... (Anna x Hans, More info inside )
1. The Announcement

**Hi there, this is Hollow Wolfe and welcome to my story. I'm always looking to improve my writing, so PLEASE feel free to leave constructive criticism and advice in the comments, because I'm listening. :)**

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The blurb was in the link you clicked, so here's some additional info. This is a Hans x Anna pairing story, and contains a few minor OCs of servants and things of the like. I'm also not using any predetermined headcanons about the names of Hans's family or anything of similar note. As of me typing this, it's rated a preemptive T only to give me some freedom, but it may very well change if I feel like it. Everything is very open at this point.

Obviously I don't own anything about this except for the actual idea and plot the fanfiction free to leave questions, comments, compliments, criticisms, suggestions, or whatever else either in the form of a review or via PM. Enjoy :)

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**Chapter One- The Announcement**

"King Gustav of the Southern Isles?" Else repeated to the messenger at the door. The title seemed to strike a vaguely familiar chord in her, but she couldn't quite identify it. "What does he want?"

The messenger was a portly fellow with a thick brown handlebar moustache and a blue suit that fit a little too tightly around the arms. "They didn't tell me much," he complained, rubbing his hands together. "Only that one of their younger princes has suffered an injury and is demanding to be transported here."

The Southern Isles. Where on Earth had she heard that title before? Her mind was transported back to that one horrible day, and her stomach churned. Then again, she couldn't judge this mystery individual from her emotions that arose from her coronation day, or the days following. Perhaps one of the royal family members had attended. But why was the name so poignant? Never mind that. The man needed an answer. She could ponder it later.

"Sure," the Queen said. "We'll take him in and prepare a room for him. Do you know what type of injury he has?"

The messenger hesitated. "Damage to the brain," he whispered disdainfully. "He's absolutely delirious, if I make have an opinion. Whenever he speaks, all he does is demand to go to Arendelle. We think it will at least give him some peace of mind."

Elsa lowered her gaze a little, but said nothing. "We'll do what we can," she finally declared, and bid the messenger a quick but polite farewell.

The thud of the massive wooden doors echoed against the marble interior. "Anna?" Elsa called into the air. "We're going to have a guest soon. He's got brain damage and is coming here to get well."

"Who is it?" a bright female voice replied from somewhere within.

"One of the princes of the Southern Isles. By the way, does that ring a bell to you?"

From within a small library not too far from the front door, Anna's motions suddenly screeched to a halt. _Hans. _Did Elsa not remember the title of the man that tried to kill her? She supposed it was not exactly the first thing on her sister's mind that day, but still. _Hans. _She didn't know how to respond. He'd shown his true malicious nature to her, but built up affection was still difficult to get rid of. Every now and then between dates with Kristoff, she'd have to bite back images of the prince's face from her mind. Now and then as Kristoff slid his hand over her hers and laced their fingers, she'd look down and half expect to find the hand enclosed in a smooth white glove. How bad did she _really _want to see him return? He _had _tried to kill them both.

Then again, the situation was very different now.

"Anna?" Elsa called again.

"N-no," Anna managed, "I don't think I know anyone with that title."

There were a couple of seconds of silence. "Alright," Elsa sighed. "Just letting you know!"

"Thanks!"

Anna set her book down and gazed long and hard at the burgundy cover. What had she gotten herself into? _Did I do the right thing? _And what all did Elsa mean by brain damage?

No. She was getting herself. She had only said one of the princes, and there were certainly many more than just Hans to choose from. But who else would even think to come to Arendelle? Why would _he_? Maybe an older royal stranger was simply suffering delusions.

Still, though, the more she let the idea roll around in her head, the larger it grew. Hans was returning. Definitely.

And Elsa didn't realize it yet.

Anna didn't realize she had been smiling until she felt the expression crumble. Elsa would probably try to kill him on sight once she recognized him. She had only ever heard his name once, but she would definitely be familiar with his face, and she wouldn't be happy. Maybe with the brain damage, something would change. It was a romanticized idea, she knew, but she could hope, and maybe something would play out in her favor.

"Anna?" a familiar voice called. Anna snapped back to reality to find Olaf nearly at her feet.

"Oh, hi! Are you alright?"

"Are you? You've been staring at that book for a long time."

"And you've been…"

"Waiting. Now come on! I want you to show me how to play chess. It looks fun! I like all the horses, and the little pawns…."

Anna bent over slightly and took his hand, letting him lead her out of the library and into another room. She was overthinking everything, she knew. Things would reveal themselves when the time came. For now, she just had to wait. Wait for her second prince charming to come home.


	2. Arrival

Eight days. That's how long it took from when the news arrived for the Southern Isles to once again arrive at the foot of Arendelle with its precious cargo. Anna knew almost immediately. She had developed a habit of staring intensely out the window, waiting for some sign of arrival, and when she saw it, she sprinted to the door.

"They're here!" Anna called out to her sister. She didn't respond. Maybe she was out of earshot. Either way, it gave her no pause, and she kept moving.

The breeze was a luxurious warm one as she stepped outside, filling her lungs with life. Today was the day! She waited idly as the carriage rolled to a stop just beside her.

"Queen Elsa, I presume?" the driver asked, gazing down at her.

"Me? Oh, no, I'm, uh, I'm Anna," she replied. She nervously rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. "Princess Anna of Arendelle."

The driver nodded. "Well, we've got the prince ready for you in the back. Would you like me to wait for you to call some servants?"

She realized with a flush of blood to her face there was no way she could carry him herself. "Yeah! Right! Um, just a second." She picked up her skirts and stumbled back inside, looking around. There weren't any members of the staff in sight.

The sound of the ballrooms were always airy to her, grabbing her attention now as her shoes clicked against the floor. She paused, relieved for a brief moment when she heard a second set of clicks making her way towards her.

"Princess?" a dapper man of about thirty asked her.

"Argus!" Anna breathed back. Argus was the chief chef for the castle, but spent his spare time tending to other things around the place as well. He was kind and polite, but a little irritable at times. He was one of the few servants she knew somewhat well. "I need help with getting our, uh, new guest in. Can you rally some other people and help him?"

"Of course, your highness," he replied with a quick bow before darting off. She waited a few minutes in silence before he returned with two other cooks and a maid. "These were the ones available, ma'am, will this do?"

"Yes, thank you," Anna said. They wordlessly walked past her to the carriage, and she trotted after them, observing the scene carefully. The gilded door of the carriage swung open, and Argus reached inside alongside another cook. She saw another pair of arms grasp theirs, and her heart began pounding. _It's him. He's here. I'm about to see him. What if it isn't him? What if it's his brother?_

A few seconds later, Hans emerged from the carriage, clearly not in his physical prime. His eyes seemed glazed over and desperate for sleep, and his posture read broken and dizzy. This was more than brain damage. Something really bad had happened to him. He gained his footing and the two servants each wrapped an arm around him for support. He inched along, his eyes wearily scanning the area. For a brief instant, they met with hers.

Her stomach tied itself in a knot. _It's him. _

The final cook and maid reached into the carriage once more and began unloading luggage. He had two large bags and a smaller one, presumably filled with clothes and things. They each grabbed one, and Anna reached in after them to grab the small one. It was heavier than she had expected. _Hans is here. Hans is here! _She slung the bag over her shoulder and tried to catch up with the others. "Thank you," she muttered briefly to the driver, who nodded and raised the rains for his horses. There was a snap and a squeal, and he was off again, his job over.

"Hans!" she called after the prince, running as fast as she could manage with such a heavy bag. "Hans, I—"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Argus interjected, "but his highness is delirious. He needs rest before he can properly associate with anyone."

Rejected. "Right. Um, sorry."

"No worries, your highness."

"Okay…"

Anna slowed her pace a little, watching Hans hobble his way through the front door and be led to his room. It almost felt as if it weren't real, as if it could somehow not be Hans. _That's not possible. He's right there. I'm looking at him! _She followed the servants in a sort of half-dream state, not quite hearing their occasional murmurings or seeing it as they eased him into a guest bed and promptly began unpacking his things and placing them in a closet. Anna watched idly as coat after fancy coat was hung, each looking like about the same ilk of design. And, of course, the familiar white gloves she had remembered were folded crisply and placed on the bedside table beside Hans, who had already lost consciousness.

_Poor thing, _she thought to herself as she gazed at him. He was like a sick puppy. Hans's eyebrows furrowed a little, and he brought his arms closer to his face, his knees a little closer to his chest. Disturbing him in such a peaceful state would be almost physically painful. Letting out a quiet sigh, she decided to leave them all alone, and pursue other matters. She'd talk to him later, hopefully before Elsa could see.

Other matters, it turned out, meant getting a piece of cake from the kitchen, eating it, then sitting idly outside his door for three hours. She didn't have anything else to do, and over the years her threshold for boredom had gotten inevitably higher. It wasn't abnormal for her, when nothing was happening, to sit and stare out the window for longer than that and feel perfectly entertained.

_I'm so weird, _she thought to herself blandly, eyeing a speck of dust as it fell from some unknown height and wafted to the ground, it landed on her wrist, and she did nothing but stare at it. _Oh._

Suddenly, from inside, there was a faint rustling of sheets. Her hear skipped a beat, and she found herself staring at the door handle, waiting for further signs of life. More rustles, and the sound of the frame creaking. She felt chills on her forearms. _One, two… _of course she wouldn't want him to know she was waiting. _ …thirty! _She got to her feet and burst into the room.

"Hey!" she panted, and immediately paused. Hans was standing there, gazing at her through a haze of groggy confusion, his shirt crumpled in his hands. Anna's face flushed as red as the comforter. "Um, hi there…"

"Hi there!" he said with a very slight mumble. "I'm Hans." He extended a hand, tossing his shirt back onto the bed with the other. "Who are you?"

Anna just stared at the hand. _How could he not remember…? _"I'm… Anna, Princess Anna of Arendelle." She lightly took his hand and shook it. He didn't seem phased. "Do you… remember me, Hans?"

"Princess!" He repeated in awe. He looked at her, frowning in concentration. After a few moments, he relaxed again and shook his head. "Hm, no, I'm sorry, Anna, I don't think we've met."

_Brain damage, right. But amnesia? _It seemed so cliché to have him just return completely blank. It wasn't just his memory, right? Was it? He hadn't even used his title. Just Hans.

As Anna processed the information, Hans seemed to remember his shirt was crumpled on the bed. "Oh!" he muttered, his face turning as red as Anna's was just moments before. "I probably should put my shirt on in the presence of royalty… I'm sorry…"

He moved to the bed again, awkwardly retrieving the piece of clothing and shrugging it on. Anna just watched, examining the way his muscles moved as he did. With his other side facing her, she could clearly see a number of fresh scars ripping along the side of his torso. It only begged the question further. _Hans, what happened to you?_ Hans tugged the bottom edges of the fabric and ran his hands across his chest to smooth it out. "There," he mumbled. "That wasn't classy of me at all!"

"Really, it's no problem!" Anna replied with a smile. Maybe she could get some information out of him. "So, uh, why did you want to come here?"

The question seemed to take the prince by surprise. "I… I'm not sure," he confessed. "I just wanted to come here, really badly. Now that I made it, I'm not sure what to do…" his words slowly trickled out, and he gazed around the room nervously. It was a striking distance from the creature Anna had fallen in love with at the ball. That Hans was confident, calm, knew what to say. This one, well…. "I'm thinking I may have been born here," he said after a moment.

"Really? Why's that?"

"Because they say I have amnesia, and this is the only location I can remember, so it must be important."

Anna nodded. "Well, you weren't born here, I can tell you that much."

A crestfallen look fell on Hans's face. "I wasn't…?"

"No."

"Oh," he sighed. "Well… who am I then?"

_Exactly, _Anna thought. _Who are you? _Even she couldn't fully answer that question in his prime. Any worries of him still being the murderer she knew had flown out the window. All that was left was an empty bottle, a blank canvas, his most basic personality. In this moment, she could tell him he was only a poor fisher boy from the Northlands. She could say anything. Hans was now clay in her hands, able to be molded into whatever she saw fit. Right now, he was nobody. What he became was for her to decide.

Anna smiled. "You're Hans," she replied simply, "and I'm here to help you remember."


	3. Calming Waters

Old Hans was a power-hungry and manipulative prince from the Southern Isles. New Hans was a kind and generous nobleman from the same place. She was helping him… right? Wasn't it better for him to be a good man, even if it wasn't the truth?

The questions swirled around Anna's head, but she quickly shoved them away, determined to believe she was in the moral right. She knew there was good in him. He hadn't handed out soup in blankets to the citizens of Arendelle in her absence for no reason, after all. She might as well kindle that spirit, that side of him, and leave the other to shrivel and die in his subconscious.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?" Argus muttered, standing in the doorway. Hans brushed past Anna and extended the same hand he had Anna.

"Hi there, I don't believe we've met. My name is Hans," the prince greeted him.

Argus took the hand hesitantly after a nod of approval from the present Arendelle superior. "My pleasure, Hans, but we have indeed met. I helped you from your carriage."

"Oh! Forgive me, I'm so sorry. I was really tired."

"No worries, your highness," Argus dully replied.

"Highness?" Hans questioned to the air. "No, I'm just a lord, but thank you, I suppose!"

Argus stared at Hans for a moment before shooting a questioning glare at Anna. Anna shrugged, holding back a smile and motioning with her hand for the servant to leave. He bid a curt farewell and gave a slight bow before swerving out of the room. He kept his hand on the doorframe, however, and leaned back in for one final message. "Oh, by the way, your… your lordship, the Queen has requested your attendance at dinner this evening, if you are feeling well. She would like to make your acquaintance."

"The queen!" Hans exclaimed with a smile. "Wow, and I thought I was lucky meeting the princess!"

Anna blushed, turning away slightly. His childlike mannerisms were adorable.

Argus bowed his head again and made his way out, leaving the two alone once more.

"So…" Hans began, turning to face Anna fully. Anna once again remembered how tall he was compared to her, the top of her head barely reaching his chin. "Tell me more about my past?"

-O-

_Eight Months Ago_

_The sound of wood sliding against wood was never a pleasing one, but as the gate to his temporary prison opened, Hans felt nothing but desperate relief. He didn't even open his eyes, content with the simple pleasure of having his whole face be touched by sunlight, uninterrupted by the shadow of a metal bar. Back to his normal life. Thirteenth in line, no power but in his title. No citizens that appreciated his efforts. His hope for a future has sunk under the horizon alongside Arendelle. It was all so close, now he was nobody again. At least as close to nobody as a prince could be. _

_Hans sat on the floor of his cell, crumpled and broken like a piece of worn out clockwork. Flashbacks of everything had not stopped replaying in his mind. Everything could have been avoided. If had just waited, hadn't proposed to Anna that night, had waited it out, it would have worked. Everything. But patience was never his virtue, and in the heat of the moment and in the throngs of desire he had almost killed two people. The amount of selfishness in those couple of days was terrifying even to him. He felt inhuman. He felt worthless. What good was he if he couldn't even get married properly? _

_None at all, as he had proven. _

"_Can I move around or is it just time for another meal?_" _Hans whined to whoever had opened the door. The response was a plain-sounding male voice. _

"_No, Hans," the sailor muttered. The prince opened his eyes just enough to see a hand held out in his direction. "We're home._

-O-

Anna took Hans's hand and led him through rows and rows of ornate hallways to the dining room, which was washed in a deep crimson red. Elsa hadn't arrived, so Anna took the liberty of sitting him in one of the wooden chairs on the side. "This seat is the comfiest," she said, easing him into the chair. She noticed him wince ever so slightly as his hands ran along the arms and he lowered himself. "It's the most worn in. You can have it for today."

"Thank you, Anna," Hans sighed. "You don't have to be this kind, you know. I've done nothing to earn it."

"But you deserve it," she replied. "You're injured, remember? We'll have the doctor look at you later and we'll see what we can do!"

Hans nodded. "Alright, thank you! For the doctor, that is. And letting me stay in your home."

"Anna?" another voice called from the hallway. Anna froze as her sister walked into the room, and for a moment she stared at her like a deer in headlights. Olaf waddled in just after her. Drat. She still hadn't thought of a plan.

"Hey, Elsa, I—"

"ANNA!" Elsa shouted. All her muscles became alive in an instant, and she barreled towards them, pushing her sister aside with an arm. In no time flat she was at Hans's throat, her hand clenched around his collar, her face twisted in hatred. "I knew that title was familiar. What are _you _doing here? Do you want to cause even more havoc? Huh?"

"Elsa, get off of him!" Anna shouted. Her words fell on deaf ears. Hans tried to stand, but a thick layer of ice was already crawling up the legs of his chair. His eyes were wide as saucers, staring at the queen in utter fear and confusion.

"Anna!" Hans yelped as the cold began spreading around his collar. "Anna, what—"

"Elsa, get OFF!" Anna grabbed her sister's shoulders and yanked her back, causing them both to stumble and crash against the table. On the other side, an ornate wine glass shattered on the ground.

Reflexively, Elsa pushed back on Anna's chest, forcing her to take a step back. The two girls glared at each other for a few long seconds before either of them spoke.

"You _lied_ to me!" Elsa spat. "You said you didn't know who it was!"

"I didn't! Technically…" Anna replied. "He has more twelve siblings, you know, it could have been any of them!" Elsa's face remained hard as stone. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"That's not enough," the queen hissed. "He's a _villain, _Anna! How could you possibly let him back into Arendelle?"

"I, you see, uh—"

She was interrupted by the sound of Hans crashing to the ground, still partially frozen to his chair. "Ow!" he whimpered, writhing his torso. His eyes were locked on Elsa, as if he were staring at a ghost or a demon. "You have… ice powers? Magic?" The final word fell off his lips as if it were too fantastical to even consider.

Elsa stared at him disdainfully for a moment, then turned back to Anna. "How does he not remember?"

Anna hesitated, looking quickly between her sister and her guest. "Excuse me," she blurted at Hans, grabbing Elsa's wrist and running out of the room.

"Tell me everything," Elsa demanded the moment they were out of earshot.

Anna could see there was no other option. "Um, well, he's got amnesia, and he forgets everything about his life and who he is!"

"And did you tell him?"

"Well, I told him _something…_"

"Anna!" Elsa shouted. "You can't just rewrite people like that! It isn't right!"

"Well what did you want me to do, tell him that he tried to kill me and ask him to finish the job?"

"No, just—" Elsa turned away, heaving an exasperated sigh. "It's not the truth."

"The truth is bad for him," Anna pleaded. She took a few steps towards Elsa, taking her hands in her own. "Please, Elsa, I can make him better. He isn't a bad person anymore. I'm doing this to help him."

"And _only _to help _him?_"

"…Yeah…"

Elsa processed the information and continued. "I really don't feel like this is a good idea."

"Elsa, I know you and our parents rewrote my memory."

"Huh?"

Now Anna's gaze had assumed partly that same look of ice. "The blond streak in my hair, the ice powers, the dreams of trolls, do you really think after that whole incident I wouldn't put two and two together?"

Elsa's face slowly lost any essence of fight. She'd lost. "It was for your safety…" she whispered.

"And this is for his," Anna insisted. "Please, just this once, trust me."

Elsa pursed her lips. She didn't like the idea at all. Justified or not, the entire concept was faulty. Letting a potential killer back into the house and allowing her sister to play with his mind like a toy? Of course not. But they couldn't send him back to the Southern Isles, and Anna had a good soul. She wouldn't want to hurt him. Not intentionally, anyway.

"I don't like it," Elsa stated, "so if I see anything get out of hand, he's going straight back home."

"Thank you, Elsa!" she threw her arms around her sister and nuzzled her face into her shoulder. "I promise I'll make him a good man!"

Elsa hesitantly returned the gesture. "Sure…"

"A-Anna? Your magesty?" Hans called weakly from the dining room. "I'm still here."

"Coming, Hans!" Anna called back, rushing away from her sister.

Anna lingered for a moment, staring at the empty hall. _Sis, what are you doing? What am _I _doing?_

She took a brief instant to inhale and shrug off the uncertainty before pacing back into the room.


	4. Continuation

"_You're late," Queen Olga muttered, as if he had only left for a walk. "We expected you back two days ago."_

"_There were… complications," Hans confessed, rubbing his arm nervously. "The weather was in no condition for the crew to set sail for home."_

"_But it's summer," King Gustav protested. "What could have possibly occurred?"_

_The prince hesitated for a moment. "Snow, fa- your majesty." _

"_Snow? This time of year! In Arendelle!"_

"_Now, Gustav," Olga began, leaning forward and turning to look her husband more fully in the face. "The boy is many negative things but a liar isn't one. That's Egil," she spat. The winced as if the name were bitter medicine._

_Egil was Hans's senior by ten months, and was treated slightly the better for it. "I'm sorry," Hans sighed, his eyes fixed on the carpet. "I would have left promptly on time if I could." _

"_And that wife you wanted," the queen asked, "did you find one suitable for our standardS?"_

"_Yes, your majesty." _

"_And were you successful in your endeavors?"_

"…_No, your majesty."_

_The queen leaned back in her throne, her legs crossing as she released a heavy sigh. She stared down at her son with a face of utter dismissal. "Typical."_

-O-

"Is everything alright, Hans? Is the meat cooked well enough?"

Anna looked as if the quality of Hans's meal was one of many threads that held the universe together. Elsa, on the other hand, rolled her eyes and glanced at Olaf. A snowman couldn't eat, but he still preferred to act as part of the family. Argus would prepare a small plate of mashed potatoes for him to play with while the others enjoyed a hearty serving of whatever the night's meal was.

"Elsa," Olaf whispered loudly and conspicuously, "What's Hans doing here? Is that the guy that tried to—"

"Yes." Elsa answered. She took a fork and knocked a few peas from the top of the pile.

"So why is he here?"

"I'll explain to you later, just, please, try to have some manners."

"Hans, is the meat alright?"

"Yes, Anna, thanks…"

It was as if the vibrance he had possessed only minutes ago was drained out of him. Anna sighed turning back to focus on her own meal. Peas, carrots, and lamb. How unoriginal. She tried to devour it as daintily as she could, the corner of her eye always fixed on the guest in case he glanced over at her eating habits. He didn't. His mood was borderline comatose.

The rest of the meal passed in the same looming silence, before Elsa finished her meal and quickly excused herself. Olaf was contented destroying his mashed potatoes soon after. Anna clinked her fork against the side of a plate. Argus returned with a butler to pick up the tableware carnage. None of it seemed to matter to her. _What's wrong with him? _She wondered. _Even in his old self he was never like this. _

"Hans—"

"What did I do?" Hans asked, staring wanly at the spot his plate once was.

"What do you mean, Hans?"

"You know exactly what I mean!" he cried, blood once again moving through his veins. "The queen just called me a villain. She tried to kill me. What did I do before I lost my memory?"

Anna froze. _I can't tell him the truth. Do that and all your plans fall apart._

Anna rose from her chair and walked over to him, placing a consoling hand on his forearm. He closed his eyes, leaning slightly towards her. "Hans," she sighed, curling her fingers under her hand, "what happened in the past doesn't matter anymore. You're here, and you're recovering from an injury. Focus on the now. Elsa will come around."

"But…" Hans opened his eyes again, looking at his hostess. Every tiny detail of her face held genuine concern in his favor. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted him safe. That at least he could appreciate. It'd be uncouth of him to bother her more than he already had with his questioning. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll leave it alone for today." Then, carefully, he took her hand and removed it from his arm. "Princess," he said with a smirk, still holding it, "I appreciate your advances, but we did only meet this morning…"

"Oh!" Anna gasped, her face turning ten shades of red. _Huh. That was a first from him. _"Uh, right. Sorry, I—sorry." She retracted her hands like lightning and brought them to her collarbone. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he chuckled. "It isn't a no." He offered her a smile, that perfectly suave smile that she hated so much. "It's just a, uh, let's get to know each other."

"Alright," Anna grinned. "I like that."

"I sort of forget where my room was, can you show me?"

"Of course." Anna helped him out of the chair just as she had helped lower him into it. Again, more wincing. The two once again navigated the halls towards his room, occasionally sharing idle conversations about Arendelle, the castle, or 'that neat painting on the wall right there,' according to Hans. Whether it felt like three seconds or three days walking down the hallways, she couldn't tell. Even having him here was still so surreal.

"Thank you for saving me," Hans said as they walked into his room. "I don't think I ever properly told you so."

"No problem," Anna replied. "I'd be crazy to just let her freeze you."

"Not just that," he said. He took a step closer to her, and her heart began pounding again. "But taking me in and helping me remember. I mean it. I consider it a blessing. I want you to feel properly appreciated."

She couldn't even fathom a reply, just smiled back at him before she remembered herself. "I should go…" she mumbled, a little quietly. "And you should get to bed. You need rest."

"You're right. Good night, Anna."

"Good night."

Hans took a few steps away from her, towards the bed, and began to unbutton his jacket. Three buttons down, he paused, and looked back up at her. "Don't you need to go?"

"Right!" she yelped. "Right. I do. Bye." She darted out of the room before waiting to hear a response.

Hans chuckled, pacing over to close the door behind her. "Night."


	5. At a Picnic

The human body was truly an amazing thing. In just a couple days, Hans was able to operate almost completely independently. He still would on occasion need help reaching an object, or getting over the high edge of the bathtub—courtesy of the servants—but physically, he seemed to be recovering at a healthy speed.

It had become very routine, honestly. Anna would be there to greet him in the morning, and they would walk to breakfast, explore the library together, and then eat lunch. Sometimes they would part ways after that until dinner, but other times they would simply hang out. Be friends. Get to know each other. It became very clear the longer Anna talked to this handsome prince what from their first meeting and feigned and what was real. He was certainly suave, no question there. Perhaps they were not as miraculously in sync as they had been on the night of Elsa's coronation, but they still had moments of clearly being on the same wavelength. The occasional jynx, the same opinions, food preferences, even one or two shared mannerisms. Even Kristoff had little truly in common with Anna, were she to admit it. Hans was the best friend she never had as a kid, her childhood partner in crime ten years too late and with a certain different end goal in mind.

"Hey Anna," Hans would say, looking in her direction. "I'm still not quite familiar with how to get to my room from here, would you show me?"

She would smile and shake her head. "You've been here for a while, Hans, I know you know the way!"

He would smile back. "I know," he'd confess, "but I enjoy walking with you."

Anna would walk Hans to his room, and they would exchange a few words of last-minute talk before parting ways. They were inseparable. Near constant companions.

As far as Hans knew, he was born to a modest family, his father a fisherman, his mother a governess. Upon the death of his mother's client, she inherited a massive sum of money, boosting them into noble status. They would always help the poor, since they could identify with their struggles, and had suffered a severe accident involving brain trauma. King Gustav of the Southern Isles had discovered him, taken him in, and heeded his request to go to Arendelle.

"And then," Hans added, retelling the story to Anna, "I met a princess of Arendelle who showed me far more hospitality and kindness than I could possibly deserve!"

Anna blushed, helping herself to another cookie from the plate that sat between them. "Oh come on, I'm no goddess!"

Hans took another bite of his chocolate chip. Every time he told the story of his so-called past, it was as if it were his first time hearing it. He seemed—or at least Anna thought so—very determined to commit it to memory, to regain his past. Perhaps it was harder because of how false it was. She tried not to think too hard about it. For now, he was happy just being here, in Arendelle, with her. That's all that mattered.

"So," Hans said, leaning back. He placed his hands behind his head and let himself hit the picnic blanket, staring at the clouds. "Tell me about your sister."

"What about her?"

"Well, she has ice powers. That's incredible! How does she do it?"

Anna leaned back too, gazing as the sky slowly began to turn pink with the sunset. "She was born with it, I think," was the answer after a moment of thought. "I'm not sure. I used to know at one point, probably."

"What happened?"

She paused. It was actually quite a personal fact, but given the context, she felt she could tell him. "I had my memory wiped," she confessed.

That certainly seemed to seize his attention. "Really?" he asked, rolling to his side to face her. "So we've both had…"

"Yeah, I guess, but mine wasn't so severe. I was really young, and I didn't lose it in an accident.**"**

"How did you?"

She told him everything she could without revealing how Hans's story overlapped with her own, mostly keeping to her childhood. It came out very spotty and generalized, awkward and not quite fleshed out. She was, after all, talking about memories she did not actually remember. Even so, Hans seemed to be hanging off of every word, fascinated with her tale. As she retold the drama of her being in danger, his expression morphed and changed with the tide of emotions as it would at the tale of any other hero.

"We're not all that different," he sighed, his chin resting on the palm of his hand.

"Yeah," Anna said, giggling, "We're a lot alike!"

"Not just like that, though. I mean the memories, too. It's like…" his brow furrowed as he fished for the correct words. "It's like it was meant to be somehow. Me wanting to go to Arendelle, you being here…"

"Do you believe in that kind of stuff?"

"…I dunno, maybe."

A silence fell over them, but neither made an attempt to break it, instead letting it hang there as they examined each other's faces. It hit her with the same sudden force as it had all those months ago; the eyes. The nose. It was everything she wanted and preferred in a face. She felt her stomach clench, and her own cheeks flush red. _Great. _She could only wonder if anything similar was running through his mind.

She felt the edge of his breath just barely on hers, his eyes locked on her face. _Oh god. Are we moving closer? _They were. _Oh god. It's happening. _The tips of their noses touched, and every inch of Anna's skin began crawling with anticipation. She closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly.

Then the flashback came.

_Oh, Anna… if only there were someone out there who—_

Anna winced and pulled herself away, muttering some inarticulate noise. Why did she have to remember _now? _She had almost forgotten the old him. Everything he'd done, or tried to do. She'd suppressed the sense of betrayal, what it felt like to stare death in the face at his hand. The tingling sensation she'd felt only a moment ago turned into a shiver. The way they moved, the way the almost-kiss played out was much too close for comfort.

"Anna, what's wrong? Are you alright?" Hans didn't lean forward, scared to upset her more. His eyes were wide as saucers as he quickly sat up and adjusted himself.

Anna forced her eyes to stay tightly shut, scared of what might escape if she loosened her grip. "I… I'm fine," she lied. "A… a bad memory hit me. I'll be fine."

"Would you… want to try again?"

"Not now, maybe later," she mumbled quickly. In an instant she was up and gathering her things, and in another was starting towards the indoors again. "I need to go!"

Hans didn't reply. _What happened to her?_

_What bad memory would stem from me trying to kiss her?_

He knew well enough that was territory not to step in. As the door inside closed behind Anna with a thud, he sighed, laying back down again. No point in wasting perfect weather. Arendelle was about as much a home to him now as the Southern Isles had been during his short time there. Living in the walls of the castle held everything he needed; he had some friends within the staff, a woman who disliked him—Queen Elsa—and always seemed apprehensive of his presence, and even another womwho seemed to seize his attention, his fancy, whenever he was near her. It was his own little contained world, one person for each type of relation. It was simple this way, easier, smaller. More contained. Even a small problem as whatever Anna was going through was then magnified in his head as a result.

It wasn't his place. He could only hope she'd come around again. He was so close…

He relived the moment just before in his head, the way his stomach seemed to be in constant motion as they leaned forward. He wanted— no— craved to feel it again.

He sat out there for a good long while, wistfully observing how the sun traveled through the skies, then sank below the mountain range, casting an orange glow on the rooftops of Arendelle. It wasn't until the nature surrounding him was shrouded in a pitch black shadow that he sighed, gathered his things, and returned indoors.

He supposed for this night, at least, he would show himself to his room.

-O-

"_We have an announcement," King Gustav announced, placing his palms on the dinner table. Every castle Hans knew of had the long wooden dining table, but it was unusual for them to be as full as this one. It took a full minute for everyone to quiet down to the king's accepted level, or utter silence. "Gunther is now engaged to Princess Caroline of Weselton."_

_There was no celebration, no abrupt spattering of applause. "Congratulations, Gunther," Hans attempted._

_Gunther was ninth in line to the throne. Hans had done his research; Caroline had an older brother, this engagement wouldn't make him any more powerful. Then again, Prince Frederick of Weselton was always rather sickly, according to the tales that had reached the Southern Isles. Perhaps it was for love, perhaps it was a gamble. Hans would never know; Gunther still enjoyed pretending he didn't exist now and then._

"_Shut up, Hans," Egil whispered in his ear harshly. "No talking at the dinner table."_


	6. Kristoff

"_I wanted a daughter," Olga spat, loudly enough to be heard through the walls. As much as Hans tried to drown it out, shoving blankets over his head, a pillow above his ear, it seemed to still penetrate his focus. _

"_Olga, don't be like this again," the King sighed. His voice came in slightly more muffled. _

"_No, don't touch me. I wanted a daughter. And what did I get? Thirteen boys. Thirteen! Thirteen tries at a girl and not one of them comes out right. I think it's us. I told you our wedding was cursed."_

"_Those boys aren't a curse, dear…"_

"_Obviously you haven't any sisters. Daughters are lovely delicate creatures that grow up to be dainty young ladies. They're wonderful creatures. Sons, on the other hand, are filthy and violent vermin. You've gotten me stuck with thirteen of them!"_

"_You wanted Josef," the King insisted._

"_Yes, one boy to carry the family name is all fine. But I wanted a daughter."_

_This was all too familiar to Hans, so familiar he could even picture it. The sober way she floated about the bedroom, the king staring at her wearily as he had for years. She would lean one arm on the vanity counter and place the other palm on her forehead. "If I still could, I'd keep trying, but those days are behind me. I can excuse a few failed tries, but all of them from Bjorn on are fruitless, wasted efforts."_

-O-

Kristoff pulled up to the back end of the castle and let out an exhale that he felt he had been holding for nearly three weeks. A pile of ice stacked in the back of the sleigh, and he and Sven sufficiently tuckered out, he called for a few servants to begin hauling the ice into a cooler place for storage.

A few large-muscled men emerged from the castle and began lifting the ice through large, thick, gloves. A few moments later, Argus came out as well to observe the action. As Kristoff slid from his perch and tossed Sven a carrot, he smiled at the man. He could relate to a working individual such as him.

"What even _are_ you?" Kristoff chuckled as Argus approached. "I feel like I see you doing everything around here."

"Well," he explained, "officially I'm a butler, but my specialty is cooking and food, so many consider me a cook as well. In my spare time I like to do a little extra cleaning and help with whatever needs helping with," he let out a hefty sigh, "which is a lot…"

"You're one hell of a butler, then," Kristoff said. He took chunk of ice from the sleigh.

"Oh, no," Argus replied. "If I couldn't do this for her royal highness, what kind of butler would I be?"

"How's Anna?" he asked, changing the subject as he walked to the shed the others were approaching. The butler sighed and rubbed his hands together.

"She's been… preoccupied with a guest of honor."

Something about the way he said that didn't sit well with Kristoff. "Alright," he muttered, "I'm going to see her, then…"

"Alright, Kristoff. Take care."

Kristoff nodded and set the ice down, adjusted his shirt, then headed inside the castle. As he entered, he heard a pair of footsteps round the corner towards him.

Hans had found the library one of his most special pleasures during his stay at Arendelle, and had set himself on the impossible task of reading every book within reach, when he wasn't with Anna. He looked up to see an unfamiliar blonde man standing awkwardly within the doorway, and smiled. "Hello!" he called, taking larger steps towards him and extending a hand. "I don't believe we've met before. My name is Hans."

"What the fuck?!"

The prince retracted his hand in surprise. "Um—"

"Kristoff!" Anna shouted, screeching around the corner. She collided with him and he wrapped his arms around her, his eyes never leaving the face of his adversary.

"What is _he _doing here, Anna?" Kristoff demanded, glaring at Hans. Hans felt his face flush red, and looked away. He shuffled his weight and stared fixed at the carpet.

"He lost his memory," Anna said. "He's _fine. _I promise!"

"You sure about that?"

"Absolutely sure. What are you doing here?"

"I just got home, Anna. I always come to see you when I get home!"

"Right." She patted Kristoff's chest and turned to face Hans. "Hans? This is Kristoff. He's kinda my boyfriend."

"_Kinda? _Anna, we've been dating for—"

He stopped when he noticed the shattered expression on the other man's face. _…Oh._

Kristoff curtly excused himself and swept Anna away with him using his arm. He thrust open the first door he could find and dashed into it, the slab of wood shutting with a loud _bang _behind him.

Anna's back was against the door, and he placed his palm on the wood above her shoulder. "Why is he here?" he demanded again, slightly louder.

"I told you the truth. He lost his memory. He's here to recover."

"You don't think that letting him back into Arendelle is a horrible decision?"

Hans could hear their scuffle from the hallway, though he tried to block off their muffled yelling. _Some boyfriend, _he thought to himself. He seemed grumpy, to put it extremely lightly. And he didn't seem to handle Anna as delicately as he would like to imagine himself doing.

But that fire in Kristoff's eyes didn't come from nowhere.

Hans recognized it. It was the same look Elsa had given him on his first day in Arendelle.

"He's a bad. Guy. Anna. If I see him even lay a finger on you, I'll—"

"Kristoff! He's not the same guy. He doesn't even know who he really is."

"What did you tell him?!"

Hans's stomach seemed to drop at those words. The muffled noises were growing even more explosive. "I've heard enough," he muttered to himself, grabbing his book a little tighter and pacing out of the hallway. He couldn't stay around and hear them fight. He didn't want to know what she sounded like when she was angry.

_He doesn't even know who he really is._

Oh god. The implications of this made his blood turn to ice. _What have I done? _He screeched in his head over and over. Something didn't add up. He liked who he was, or what he thought he was. He thought he was blessed from the start. For his mother to come into wealth, for him to be able to help those in need, then to stumble upon a beautiful princess who—he had thought, up until a few moments ago—fancied him, some gods or stars or whatever he decided to believe in were in his favor.

Or so he had thought. Was some of it a lie? How much? Not all, surely. His past felt happy. He liked to believe he was who he believed to be. But it didn't add up. Why would seemingly random people hate him? Her majesty had called him a villain.

Anna always seemed to brush over any recent history. Something wasn't there that needed to be.

And if he ever wanted a chance with her, he had to fully understand what he had done.

He slammed the book down onto a random side table and continued onward, striding now with a more intense purpose. He could start with any official records, if he could get to them. He didn't know who may try to lie or brush over the matter should he ask.

He reached a spiral staircase in the library and descended down into the old dusty section of the space. It wasn't somewhere he would normally go with Anna. After all, who wanted to spend time bonding over old records of court cases and law amendments?

He didn't know when to begin. He didn't even know his _birthday, _not that any records of his birth would be here in Arendelle. Considering his status at birth, it was unlikely any records of his early childhood existed. That part of him was just lost forever.

_He doesn't even know who he really is._

The place was old and dusty to begin with, but the section that held books on foreign affairs were even more decrepit. Maybe he was born a nobleman, instead of working his way up. It was a good place to start. He grabbed a stack of books containing the birth records of the past twenty years.

Nothing in Weselton. Nothing in the Northern Straight, or the Southern Isles. Hans slammed it shut, and cloud of dust puffed out of it. "Agh!" he shut his eyes and coughed for a few moments, the utter dryness causing his eyes to tear. "Nobody ever reads these," he muttered to himself, placing it back on the shelf.

He didn't expect a response. "They're hardly ever relevant," a familiar voice sighed. A faint breeze of cold air brushed on the back of his neck.

"Hello, your majesty," Hans muttered in return. He stared at the books, hesitant to make eye contact with her.

She said nothing, instead carefully selecting a heavy book from the shelf of legal regulations. It wasn't until Hans slammed another book in frustration that she turned and asked what he was looking for.

"Myself," Hans said wanly. "Wait. No. I'm looking for records of myself. I want to figure out who I really am."

At the word 'really,' Elsa lifted her head and began to focus more intently on the prince. "So… you know."

"Know what?"

She sighed. "I guess you don't, then." She set her book down and paced towards Hans, who quietly took a step back to allow her room. She sat on the seat behind him and motioned for Hans to follow suit.

The two sat in silence for a moment, Hans gazing expectantly at the queen and she deciding what she wanted to say. She laced her fingers together and rested them on her knees, closing her eyes. _Anna, I'm sorry. It's the right thing to do. _

_But what if it's not?_

There was always the possibility that telling him the truth would wake the beast inside of him. The memory could pour in through broken flood gates, and he would get the ambition to become king all over again. Hans was absolutely manipulative enough to take advantage of his assumed innocence should he remember.

A thought manifested in her head and immediately shot down to her stomach. What if that was already happening?

If that was the case, Elsa figured, telling him his own story wouldn't change anything.

She'd watch his expression. Carefully. And if anything suspicious arose, there would be immediate action.

"Well," the queen began, letting out a sigh at the end of the word. Hans leaned forward as if he was being told his future rather than his past, his eyes pleading for information. "Let's start with the basics. You're not a nobleman, Hans. Your full name is Prince Hans of the Southern Isles."

"Prince!" Hans repeated. His expression lit up. _Prince. That means Anna and I could—_

"I've only been Queen for about eight or nine months. You came to my coronation day. That's when Anna first met you…"


	7. Flashbacks

_Bjorn. The old Norse word for bear. They had named him well. _

_Two massive hands shot out and grabbed each of Hans's arms, and he immediately began to struggle. "What's wrong, little brother?" Bjorn hissed, his face only inches away from that of his counterpart. "Scared? Like a dog? You need to learn to grow some muscle." Hans felt his right side collide with the floor, and he immediately scrambled to his hands and knees. He cowered like a caged animal in front of his brother, trying to get up and stumbling down again as he crawled away from his steps forward. Bjorn the bear. Fourth in line. Just far enough away from the crown to never achieve it. Either he married in, or multiple people had to die early. At least Hans was safe from that potential end, but he wouldn't put it past Bjorn to arrange that type of awful deceit. _

"_I'm not done," he growled, running his hand through the front of Hans's hair and grabbing hard. He yanked him up, causing a reflexive tear of pain to roll out the corner of his little brother's eye. At that moment, Egil wandered out of a room into the hallway, stopping in his tracks to analyze the scene. Hans shot a desperate glance at his older brother, mouthing a plea for help. Egil's eyes moved side to side for a moment, then the man darted down the hallway. _

_Hans supposed he could understand. Egil didn't want to be his next target. Hans would have done the same. He could let it go once more, he thought, as a set of knuckles collided with his jaw._

-O-

There's a number of stages in every romantic relationship. The first is a blind, giddy love, where every movement of ones' partner is an opportunity for celebration, their scent is like perfume, the sound of their voice a smooth and joyous piece of music. They have no flaws, no shortcomings. Love is grand, and it is passionate. But eventually, it wears out. Pressed against the door, with Kristoff looming over her, Anna now understood that there was more to relationships than simply basking in each other's presence.

There had to be something else there.

And there wasn't.

It was a house built without a foundation, and now it was crumbling.

"What is it with you these days?" Kristoff griped. "You didn't think it was important for me to know something important like this?"

"With me these days?" Anna repeated. "I've always been like this, Kristoff. You've just suddenly decided to take offense to it!"

"Well it didn't bother me before! Anna, you're housing a criminal and your ex –b—"

"He is NOT a criminal!" Anna snapped. "Stop calling him that!"

"Why are you defending him so strongly?"

"Why are you so determined to hate him?!"

Kristoff let out a wordless grumble and pounded the side of his fist against the wall beside them. Anna jumped slightly, staring at the place he had hit. "We're talking in circles," he sighed. "This is pointless. I'm done."

"Me too," Anna growled, keeping her stony expression. She turned around and jiggled the door handle.

"With everything."

"What?"

"You heard me, Anna, it was great at first, but now all we do is argue. We never talk. We never do anything together."

"Well, you're always out of town on ice trips…"

"It's not just _me, _here, Anna. Do you know how much of our conversations are awkward silences?"

"How much, Kristoff?"

"About half. I paid attention to it once."

"Great for you."

Kristoff sighed, glancing away. There was nothing to glance _at, _really, but he didn't want to look her in the eyes anymore. It was too difficult. "Anna, do you even care anymore?"

"Of course I do," she answered immediately. "I don't want you to be upset, it's just that whatever is between us, well…"

He closed his eyes. "It isn't true love."

She sighed. "Yeah… you're right. It's not."

Another awkward silence. Neither wanted to say aloud what they both were thinking, so they simply stood there, half staring at one another, trying to drag out the moment just a little longer than it needed to be.

-O-

"_Why are you bleeding so profusely, Hans? Goodness gracious, clean yourself up!"_

_Yosef and Bjorn cackled to each other, pretending to ignore the whole scene as Hans apologized to his mother and wandered to the bathroom for a wet rag. The two followed behind him and snatched the rag from his hands the moment it began to touch his face._

"_Hey!" Hans griped, reaching for it. They were both full grown by this point, but Bjorn was eternally blessed with being a head over him. "Give me back my rag!"_

"_It's _my _rag," Yosef jeered. "Or it will be. Everything in this castle is going to be mine the minute King Gustav finally keels over!"_

"_Well that isn't now," Hans spat. He took one great leap and managed to grab the rag again. He quickly drew it towards his face and wiped the blood from his right temple, glaring daggers at his two older brothers._

_Yosef glared just as coldly back. "It'll never be yours, Hans."_

"_How's that bruise on your jaw, Hans?" Bjorn chuckled. "How does it feel? Does it still hurt?"_

"_Just leave me alone." _

"_How badly does it hurt, Hans?"_

"_I said bug off." _

"_You haven't answered the question, little brother!"_

"_FUCK YOU!" Hans roared, throwing the rag in Bjorn's face. In the same motion he took a step back and widened his eyes to the size of dinner plates. He wasn't one to curse. He wasn't one to fight back. Wrong move. Bad call. Bjorn stayed still as the rag slopped off of his face, and then lurched forward. The next instant, Hans felt a disgustingly familiar pair of hands grab his collar and slam him into the wall, then the opposite wall, then the ground. Three feet simultaneously kicked him in the torso. He was twenty one. He wasn't supposed to get pummeled as if he were ten. He was an adult. They were adults. Yosef was middle aged! What was wrong with them? With him?_

"_You're so weak," Yosef spat. Hans was on the ground, physically close to lifeless. Bjorn nudged his foot into Hans's chest, and he rolled to his back, his arms outstretched like he was asleep. The two wandered out silently, leaving him on the cold ceramic floor. The door shut behind them with a clack. _

"_Who's next?" Bjorn asked on the other side. _

"_Egil."_

_Hans waited until their footsteps were far out of earshot before he moved again. Painfully, he hoisted himself up against the edge of the sink, and stared at himself in the mirror. They had left the rag, at least. He slowly reached for it and wiped what was left of the blood from his face._

_He placed his head in his hands, a hot stream running down his cheek from his eye. It was never going to get better. It wasn't. Every inch of his insides felt as if it had been beaten like a piñata, two punches away from bursting and crumpling into a bloody heap. How was he even still standing? His muscles were weak and dilapidated. He felt as if he could pass out at any moment. He closed his eyes to hold back any more tears, but they still welled up and began rolling down his face in unstoppable amounts. He couldn't even keep himself from crying. He couldn't do even do something simple as that. He was so incompetent! Good thing he would never be king, because he would inevitably screw up everything he possibly-_

"_Prince Hans?" a familiar voice called. Instantly Hans's muscles relaxed, and he stood up a little. _

"_Maria," he breathed._

_Maria was a head maid for the royal family. Once upon a time, when Hans was still barely a toddler, she was governess as well. However, as Yosef and Bjorn and the others began getting older, they began resisting her, and soon each one of the princes in turn was given up on and turned loose. Hans, of course, was the last. He remembered the days fondly where Maria still had reign over his older brothers, and could reprimand them for the torment they inflicted upon him. It didn't stop her from still trying today. Once a mother hen, always a mother hen. _

_Hans didn't react as she opened the door to the bathroom. She was slightly heavyset, and just old enough to be considered matronly. She took one look at Hans and gasped, and within two seconds Hans was seated on the edge of the bathtub, a rag pressed against the wound on his forehead and jacket sliding off his arms. _

"_Did Bjorn do this to you?" she whispered. He nodded. Maria sighed, taking his jacket and resting it over the sink. "Towel yourself," she said, "I'm going to draw you a bath."_

"_A bath? No, thank you, I'm not in need of a bath." _

"_Yes, you are. You're plenty clean, but you need to heal any wounds you have just received. You look so broken, Hans!" _

"_Thank you, mom— ma'am."_

_Hans wasn't sure if she heard his Freudian slip or not. Either way, she didn't respond to it. "Would you like the water warmer or colder?"_

"_Warmer, please." _

"_Alright. I'll be back in a moment with some other maids." She stood, lightly smoothing the front of her long dress with her hands and backing up. Just before closing the door, she looked back into the room, at Hans on the edge of the bathtub. All these years, he always sat in the exact same spot, on the exact same edge…_

_When the door closed, Hans stood and begin putting the rest of his clothes with his coat. First his belt, then gloves, shoes, socks, shirt, pants, everything in turn. He grabbed a soft towel from a rack and quickly wrapped it around his hips, fastening the top in a crude knot. He glanced upwards at his reflection in the mirror._

_He supposed he was at least _somewhat _attractive. He was well shaped, decent abs and pecs and things of the like. He was satisfied with his face. Not happy, just… satisfied. But his skin was painted with so many bruises and scratches that it seemed almost unreal. As if he was artfully covered in red and purple watercolor. A number of scratches were etched into the side of his torso, mostly from Yosef in his worst moments. They had been there for years, and he had gotten used to seeing them, but the other wounds on his body made everything stand out._

_He looked like a prison mate, or the victim of an attack, or a cruel leader. _

No. Survivor. Think survivor. You're not a victim. You're a survivor.

_A few moments later, Maria burst into the room with three other maids, each carrying a bucket of water. All at once, they poured it into the tub, half hot, half boiling. Maria winced as she stuck her hand in, stirring the two temperatures together until they had formed a smooth evenness. "It's ready," she declared, then gave him a pat on his shoulder as she walked out of the room. Her hand was smooth, and a little cold. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of a kind hand. The other maids left, trying their best to ignore what was so obvious about his torso._

-O-

"Well, bye, then," Anna muttered, trying her best to seem lofty and composed. In all honesty, many parts of her felt broken, but the ones that felt a sense of liberation and vitality far outweighed it. She didn't want to seem too overjoyed, or upset. She just wanted to let what happened happen.

"Bye." Kristoff gave Sven a pat on his nose, and received a look of confusion in return. He whispered something to the reindeer and then mounted the sleigh. He lifted the reins, ready to give them a lash of speed, but paused. He set them down, and looked at the princess one last time.

"It was great," he sighed, "while it lasted."

Anna nodded. "Yeah… it was."

"But it was time."

"Yeah. It was."

"Still friends?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

At that confirmation, the tiniest bit of a smile seemed to return to Kristoff's lips. "If Hans does _anything_ to hurt you, you know I'll still come running."

She didn't like to think about that option, but it was a valid point. "Thank you," Anna said. "Be safe on your ice trip."

He didn't reply. Instead, he offered her a genuine smile, then whipped the rains and squealed off into the distance, around the corner, and was gone.

_-O-_

_Hans dropped the towel and took a deep inhale, stepping a foot into the water. It was exactly as Maria had said it would be, and he let himself slowly slide in, letting himself be submerged and his sense of touch dissolve under the surface. _

_He could almost fall asleep in this state. Water was his friend, his net of safety, his healing potion. Everything seemed to go away underneath it. He yearned to be anywhere but in the Southern Isles, in this castle, with his family. He didn't want to be a prince, if this was the kind of life being a prince meant. All he wanted was compassion._

_The last time he had been shown that by anyone other than Maria was in Arendelle._

_He closed his eyes and let out a sigh. Placing his now-wet hands against his forehead as the last few remaining chunks of ice dissolved in the bath. _


	8. Apologies

"So wait," Hans interrupted, placing his hands out as if to physically grab the conversation and halt it. "I tried to marry her _that day?_"

Elsa nodded. "Obviously, I said no."

He nodded understandingly. "Good call," he admitted.

She couldn't help but smirk a little bit. "It got pretty heated, as you can imagine. I had tried to keep the…" she paused, and formed a single large snowflake in her hand. "I had tried to keep it a secret until then, but it came out." The snowflake crumpled into nothing. "It was probably the worst experience of my life. I didn't know what to do, so I ran."

Hans nodded slowly. "I'm sorry…" he whispered.

"Anna went out to get me. She left you in charge."

"Did she now?"

The story continued, his facial expressions ebbing and slowing with the emotions just as the story did. He seemed proud upon discovering that he had given out blankets and soup, that he had ventured after his then fiancé into danger. It wasn't until Elsa told about her capture that the first inklings of discomfort began to creep into his expression.

As the story progressed from there, his face slowly melted from pride to embarrassment, then shame. Gradually his elbows sunk to his knees, then his face into the palms of his hands. He gazed wide-eyed at the queen through between his fingers.

When Elsa mentioned the final acts of his plans, how he had locked Anna in a room and taken a sword from the wall to seal his place as king, she was met with only a stunned silence.

Hans looked exactly as one would expect after being told they had tried to kill someone. He stared at nothing in particular, his countenance miles from when the story had begun. "I…" he barely managed, fighting back a wave of tears. "I can't believe I…." He slammed his hands down beside him and immediately stood, so suddenly that Elsa jumped in her seat. "Excuse me, your royal highness." He executed a slight bow and then dashed out of the library.

…

Anna untied her bun as she walked, letting her hair down for the first time all day. Her scalp ached as the death grip that was on her hair was released, and it fell down in waves semi-curled from the style. Finally she could breathe. She immediately began gathering it again, but looser. More flexible. She didn't feel the need to impress anyone.

"ANNA!" she heard from down the hall. She turned, and her muscles tensed as she saw Hans rushing towards her. Reflexively, she turned to run from the barreling object, but he caught up in no time, throwing his arms around her and burying his head into her shoulder. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Augh!" The princess toppled to the ground, bringing Hans down with her, and the two crashed into the ornate carpet. She threw him off of her, scrambling to a sitting position. "What's wrong, Hans?!"

Immediately she regretted shouting. His face was almost unrecognizable from its usual calm and friendly demeanor, instead twisted in pain and tears covering his cheeks. He sat up as well, his chest heaving and his arms shaking ever so slightly. "Why didn't you tell me!?" He shouted. "Elsa told me the truth! Why did you keep that hidden from me?"

_Shoot. Uh-oh_. "What are you talking about?" she asked. Her stomach churned ferociously. Her entire plan was falling apart.

"That I'm a prince? That I tried to _kill you and your sister? _You didn't think that was important? Why did you keep that from me!"

"Hans, you're making me nervous…"

"Everything I thought I knew was a _lie, _Anna! I don't want to forget that all happened. I want to remember what I did to you so I can apologize for it. I can't believe I would do something so—I can't believe I…" his words petered out, and he sat there, a sobbing mess waiting for any sort of response. He wiped his tears with his glove and stared at it pitifully, switching to his other glove. This was not the confident man Anna thought he was. This side of Hans… was something new to her entirely.

"I wanted to protect you," she insisted. She did her best to stay quiet, to not add fuel to the fire. "I didn't want you to remember. You were so nice, so friendly, I—" she hesitated. "It was wrong of me to do that, okay? I wanted you to be something other than a villain!"

"But that's what I am," he cried. "I'm a villain. I'm a horrible person and I'm a murderer. I can't even _imagine _swinging a sword down on you, Anna! The thought makes me want to curl into a ball and die. I did that! I tried to kill you! Twice!"

Anna scooted forward slightly, into the middle of the hallway. Was he… really saying this? It was a fantasy broken from the one she had been envisioning the past few weeks, but Hans apologizing for his actions was something she had never truly expected to happen. She wanted to bury them and forget the whole event had even occurred. Still, through all the regret she could see he was upset at her. "I tried to protect you," she said again.

Hans scooted forward to meet her, looking her in the eyes. She seemed genuine, but nervous. Nervous at his utter lack of composure or worried he would become that demon again, he wasn't sure. _Calm down, Hans. You're making a mess of yourself. _He took a deep breath. A few deep breaths. _Just keep breathing and don't talk until you stop looking like such a child. _

"Do you… have anything else to say, Hans…?" She looked at him expectantly, and he felt his entire body squirm in nervousness. She was right there. Her face was not far at all, but now was not the time to indulge in fond memories. He had no idea how he was supposed to react.

Once again, his brain and his lips didn't want to work together. "I'm sorry," he wanted to say like a broken record, but his lips, instead, leaned forward and pressed against hers.

The next few moments washed by in a euphoric blur, both of them inhaling sharply and embracing each other. They were on their knees, their arms wrapped around each other as if they were standing. Everything that had been withheld from either of them poured out in a sudden burst of emotion, every kiss they had almost had before, every tension or doubt washed away. "We can't do this," Hans panted between kisses. "I'm a villain. I'm a murderer." Even as the words left his mouth he felt how ridiculous they sounded to her ears.

"No, you're not," Anna replied. Her hand snuck from his shoulder to the back of his head, resting her fingers in his hair. "Nobody died. Everyone here knows you're a good person."

"I love you."

"And I—"

"Um—your highness?"

The two froze, and once again became aware of their surroundings. They were on their knees, kissing quite passionately, in the middle of an open hallway, and Argus stood a few yards away, unsure of how to respond. Anna's face flushed red, and she quickly stood. "Hey, Argus! Uh, heh…" She brushed off the front of her skirt. "Hi there. Just ignore me, or us, or—" She stopped trying to save herself and simply darted past him. "Sorry!"

Hans covered his mouth with his hand, trying to force the blush in his cheeks away. "I'm sorry," he muttered to the butler, then helped himself to his feet. Argus didn't reply, instead bowing his head slightly and turning away. He didn't seem irritated, exactly. More like amused. Hans didn't know whether to feel relieved or unsettled. He gave a polite nod to the servant and jammed his hands into his pockets, setting off after Anna.

The moment he was out of anybody's earshot, he leapt into the air and released a triumphant yell.

_I did it! _Somehow, miraculously, he had won her heart. He was blessed that she was so forgiving, so kind, so everything. He felt almost weightless as he floated down the castle hallways. Her presence was a blessing, but her forgiving him was a miracle. He didn't remotely deserve such a kind spirit. He would have to do something to be more fitting. _You make me want to be a better man_ seemed too cheesy, as true as it was.

It was—as far as he knew— one of the happiest moments in his life.

_To King and Queen Gustav of the Southern Isles, _Elsa wrote just rooms away with a hefty quill pen on the finest of papers.

_I am pleased to inform you that your son, Hans, is recovering very well and has regained some of his memories. He has been a gracious guest but will soon be ready to return to his home with you and his brothers. If you were to send a coach to us upon receiving this letter, most likely it will arrive in time for him to return home as quickly and efficiently as possible._

_Signed, _

_Queen Elsa of Arendelle_

She quickly folded the letter and slipped it inside an envelope, then handed it to Olaf, who sat loyally beside her. "Give this to the royal messenger, please," she said quietly.

"Everything alright, Elsa?" the snowman asked.

She frowned, but still nodded.

"Yeah," she sighed. "All fine."

-O-

_Oh shit. Now he had done it._

"_WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!" Bjorn roared, desktables and chairs flying aside as the bear stormed across the room towards Hans. Hans didn't even bother to watch. He just ran for his life. He was used to Bjorn's anger to some extent. He thought he'd seen the worst it could get. But now, Bjorn looked ready to kill. _Actually _ready to kill. His whole neck was inflated and his face blood red. That was the most of his older brother's face Hans could register before the fight-or-flight reflex kicked in and screamed through every muscle in his body to get as far away as he could. _

_He wheeled around the corner of a hallway, throwing himself into the first open door he could find. He didn't have time to try and open one himself. He saw an opening, dashed for it, and slammed the door behind him with a bang. It would take Bjorn a moment to figure out which door had slammed. _

_Hans quickly locked the door and threw the key blindly onto the carpet. He sunk to his knees, letting himself rock back into a sitting position. Breathe in. Breathe out. His stomach lurched as footsteps pounded past his door. Breathe in. The door handle giggled ferociously for a moment, then there was a pause. A grumble. Footsteps away. Silence. Breathe Out. _

_Once he got his bearings, he realized he was in his own bedroom._

_His walls were a light baby blue, with the bottom corners stained in all sorts of acrylic paint. He had, at a younger age, once wanted to be some sort of artist, but seven tubes of paint and a good scolding later, he realized that castle walls were not his canvas. Not that he had any sort of artistic talent anyway. He sighed, walking up to the corner and running his hands along the familiar bumpy texture. _

_Behind Hans, the lock of the door fell away quietly, too quietly for Hans to notice over his self-induced reflection._

_Maybe things would be better one day._

_But not right then. _

_Han's shirt fabric tightened around his chest and yanked him backwards, sending him crashing into the floor. Bjorn released him and then grabbed the front, lifting the face of his little brother to his own. _

"_Found you," he growled. _


End file.
